


paper, not booze

by belovedmuerto



Series: in a cabin in the woods [8]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Curtain Fic, Domesticity, Fluff, M/M, Married Fluff, no regrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 14:12:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17245637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belovedmuerto/pseuds/belovedmuerto
Summary: There's a new cat in the house that Bucky didn't know about, and Steve has plans for how they should celebrate their first (according to Bucky) anniversary.





	paper, not booze

**Author's Note:**

> I asked for prompts on twitter and @spacerenegades said she was craving married stucky and my brain went 'hey you haven't written any 'cabin in the woods' fic lately' so here's some of that. 
> 
> happy new year, y'all! i signed up for GYWO for 2019 so you'll hopefully be seeing a lot more from me in the coming 12 months.

There is a cat, curled up on the back of the couch with Annabelle.

He does not recognize this cat. It’s little, and looks like it might be a Siamese. It’s _very_ little, probably still quite young.

“Steve!” he yells, because he did not approve the acquisition of a new cat, and this cat looks awful comfortable snugged up with Annabelle.

Said Annabelle lifts her head and gives Bucky a baleful look.

He points at her. “I did not OK this.”

She puts her head down again, moving closer to the other cat, who hasn’t reacted at all.

“STEVE!” he yells again, because his husband has not yet answered his first bellow.

“What?” floats down from upstairs. In his studio then. He doesn’t sound anywhere near as urgent in his reply as Bucky thinks he should.

“Where did this cat come from?”

“Huh?”

Bucky rolls his eyes, puts his hands on his hips, and sighs explosively. He stomps through their room to the bottom of the steps leading to Steve’s attic studio.

“Where did this cat come from?”

There’s a brief, telling pause. It practically _sounds_ guilty. “What cat?”

“The one curled up on my couch with Annabelle right now!”

Another pause, even more guilty sounding than the last. “You mean Whiskey?”

“No, Steven Grant, I do not mean Whiskey. I don’t know where Whiskey is. WHO IS THIS CAT?”

Only by dint of long practice in putting up with Steve, and loving him, and knowing how much of a shit he is, is Bucky able to keep the laughter from his voice. Once Steve hears that, it’s all over and he’ll know he’s won.

Bucky’s pretty sure Steve already knows he’s won, but he’s not ready to give in yet.

Steve appears at the top of the steps. He is not doing a good job hiding his smile, and Bucky growls at him a little from his position looking up at him.

“What are you talking about, Buck?” He almost manages to sound innocent, and Steve Rogers hasn’t been innocent in decades.

Bucky can hear the laughter, even if he can’t see it. He wants to stomp his foot and pout, but just puts on a dead-eyed Winter Soldier glare instead.

Steve has the gall to laugh, the asshole.

“Get your ass down here, Rogers.”

Steve shrugs, “Yeah, all right. You already killed my concentration.”

Bucky keeps glaring, even though his glare hasn’t worked on Steve since they were about seven. Not even the Winter Soldier one.

“Why did I marry you again, asshole?”

Steve floats down the stairs on laughter and smugness. “Cuz I said yes.”

He presses a quick kiss to Bucky’s lips.

“I said yes first,” Bucky points out.

“Yes, dear,” Steve singsongs.

“You’re a shithead, you know that?”

“But you love me,” Steve replies with another kiss. “Where’s this imposter cat?”

Bucky grabs his hand and all but drags him into the living room. Steve giggles the whole way. It’s not fair, he’s enjoying this way too much, and Bucky’s having a really hard time keeping a straight face at this point.

He is not angry that another cat appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. He is a little surprised that they stayed at two for so long, although he supposes the fostering that Steve’s been doing has helped with that.

He’s not even angry that it seems like Steve managed to keep the new cat secret long enough for their other cats to accept the new addition.

Honestly, he’s pretty proud of Steve for keeping it from him.

Steve is bad at keeping secrets. He is not a spy, and never will be.

He is, however, a shithead.

He walks Steve into the living room and points at the two cats still curled up together on the couch. This time, the little one lifts her head and blinks sleepily at Steve for a moment, clearly in kitten-adoration by the sound of her purring, before she settles back down.

Steve gives her a little head scritch and grins at Bucky. “This is Siobhan. She’s been here for months, Buck, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He doesn’t even try to keep a straight face. Just grins like the absolute shit that he is.

Bucky points at him, scrunching his face. “You’re a shithead.”

Steve shrugs. “Merry Christmas?”

“Christmas was three days ago!”

“Happy Anniversary?”

“That’s not for three more days!”

Steve just shrugs.

For a moment, there’s an impasse, and then Bucky relents, because he always relents when it comes to Steve. “Seriously though, where’d the cat come from?”

(The cat is still purring. Bucky will not admit he’s utterly smitten.)

Steve’s face goes serious and sad, and Bucky’s heart sinks. “I found her on my jog the other day, by the side of the road. She was all by her lonesome. I couldn’t just leave her there, Buck.”

Bucky shakes his head and pulls him into a hug. Steve curls into him, holding tight and tucking his face into Bucky’s neck.

“Of course you couldn’t, Stevie,” he murmurs, rubbing his hands up and down Steve’s back. After a few moments, he pulls back, looking at Steve, brushing his knuckles against Steve’s cheek. “Honestly, kinda proud you hid her at all.”

Steve smiles, a little shy, blushing just a bit. He gets that ‘aw, shucks’ look that Bucky fell for so long ago, and continues to fall for every single day. “I was gonna tell you, Buck. Just hadn’t gotten to it yet.” 

“I know, sweetheart.”

“I was gonna take her to Sandy to try and get her to a foster or a rescue.”

Bucky nods. “How long did that idea last?”

Steve smiles again, blushes a little more. “Like twenty minutes.”

“So, the rest of your jog? I was wondering why you got back early.”

Bucky looks down at the two cats curled up together on the couch again, reaches out and gives the little one a little scratch behind her ears (she’s still purring like a freight train). For a brief moment, he wishes he could drag Steve back to bed to curl up with him in the same way. 

Steve probably wants to get back to his work, though. And it’s not like Bucky doesn’t have stuff to do himself.

But.

He gives Steve his slyest, most seductive look, out of the corners of his eyes. Steve catches him looking and grins. That flush he always gets when he’s thinking about sex and starting to get a little bothered about it starts to creep across his cheeks.

“Yeah?” Bucky asks.

Steve blushes some more and shrugs. He always blushes, even though he’s not shy about what he wants. Coy, occasionally, but not shy.

He puts himself in Bucky’s space, sliding his arms slowly around Bucky’s waist, around to cup his ass and draw him in close, sliding a knee between his legs and nuzzling at his neck, tickling him with the few days beard growth he hasn’t bothered to shave.

Steve nips at his earlobe and murmurs, “Yeah.”

Well, that’s a good way to while away the afternoon, anyway.

\----

Later, Steve gets out of bed long enough to go to the kitchen and put out food for all the animals, and bring back a plate piled high with sandwiches for himself and Bucky. When he returns and puts the plate down between them, Bucky sits up a little bit against the headboard and grabs one of the sandwiches.

Steve climbs back into bed and grabs one for himself. For a while, they munch quietly on the food, not speaking. 

Bucky chuckles a little as he finishes the last bite of his last sandwich. “I was gonna work on that table this afternoon,” he says, turning his head against the headboard to look over at Steve.

Steve leans his head back and looks over at Bucky, mirroring him. “I was gonna paint all afternoon.”

“This was better,” Bucky murmurs.

Steve smiles at him, soft around the edges. His eyes are crinkled, and love shines out of every pore on his face. He leans over and Bucky meets him halfway for a kiss. 

“Love you,” Steve murmurs.

They still don’t say it very often; they don’t need to. It is unspoken in every action, every gesture between them. In Steve putting the sandwiches between them. In the way Bucky turns his head and looks at him, soft and smiling. 

“This was definitely better,” Bucky murmurs, but what he means is, ‘I love you, too,’ and he knows Steve hears him.

The next couple of days pass quietly for them. Bucky does get some work done on the table that he’s building, and he starts designing the chairs to go with it. He’s thinking about making it something he can reproduce, a viable design for selling. He’s gonna run it past Steve soon, see what he thinks. 

Steve spends most of these days painting, although he spends the evenings, once it’s gone dark each day, on the couch knitting. It looks like he’s making a sweater.

\----

Their biggest argument in the last year has been what their ‘real’ anniversary is. It’s not much of an argument, because neither of them thinks it truly matters which date is which, so long as they’re together and committed to each other.

And they are.

It had been a bit of a sore point for Bucky, and that’s why they’d gotten married last new year’s eve (“again,” Steve points out whenever it comes up) but Steve had only ever needed the words they’d said on his eighteenth birthday.

So they sort of have two anniversaries.

On this one, the legal anniversary of their marriage, Steve wakes Bucky up nuzzling at his stomach, tickling a little with his whiskers.

Bucky mumbles, “Yeah, I’m up, what?” indistinctly, flapping at the blanket covered mound that is Steve.

“Can I?” Steve asks against his skin.

“Yeah.”

Steve blows him good morning, soft and slow and tortuously amazing, leaving him wrung out and panting, moaning Steve’s name as he comes. Steve swallows him down, and doesn’t move from beneath the covers.

Bucky listens to Steve jerking himself off, panting against his thigh, moaning high and breathy when he comes, grinning at the ceiling the whole time but not quite able to make himself move enough to help.

He should throw the covers back enough so he can see his husband, but it’s warm and toasty under the covers and he doesn’t want to. 

Eventually, Steve moves, wriggling his way up the bed to pop his head out of the covers and smile dopily at him. 

“G’morning,” Steve mumbles, just before he kisses him.

He tastes like come and morning breath and honestly, it’s pretty gross but Bucky finds himself smiling into the kiss all the same. Steve leaves off without deepening the kiss much at all, pulling back to smile at him. 

“Stay here, I’ll go get breakfast going.”

Bucky blinks at him. “Okay?”

Steve gives him another swift kiss and bounces out of bed. He pulls on his boxer briefs from where he’d apparently left them at his side of the bed, and a t-shirt, and heads off towards the kitchen.

He whistles, and the dogs get up from their various beds around the room and head off after him for a trip outside and their morning meal.

“Take a shower,” he hollers back, from the approximate vicinity of the kitchen.

Bucky grumbles to himself.

“Now, Barnes,” Steve yells, laughing around it. He’d heard. Of course he had. Damn super-soldier hearing. Sometimes Bucky forgets they both have it.

When he comes out of the bathroom, steam billowing around him making him feel a little bit badass on top of being warm and relaxed, Steve has stripped the sheets and is remaking the bed.

Bucky pouts.

“Get back in, breakfast is almost ready,” Steve instructs as he finishes up the corners.

Bucky shrugs and slides back into bed. It _is_ nice climbing into a freshly made bed. He doesn’t know how Steve did it, but the sheets are a little bit warm. He definitely wasn’t in the shower that long.

He’s starting to wonder what else Steve has got planned.

Steve comes back with a tray momentarily. It’s laden with pancakes and bacon, and Bucky’s mouth starts to water. He makes grabby hands, and Steve is laughing as he sets the tray down over Bucky’s lap.

“Dig in, I’ll be right back.”

Bucky digs in, making happy food noises as he does.

Steve comes back with a second tray a couple minutes later. This one has some more pancakes and bacon, as well as a heap of scrambled eggs for him to eat himself, a carafe of coffee, and a pitcher of water.

They eat in companionable silence.

Once Bucky’s had his fill, he leans back with his mug of coffee, watching as Steve plows through the rest of his own food and starts eyeing the little bit of pancakes that Bucky had left behind.

“Go for it, pal,” Bucky says, and Steve doesn’t hesitate to grab Bucky’s plate and clean it off as well. Bucky doesn’t have to pretend that he’s full when he’s not anymore; they always have enough food to eat, even for their enhanced appetites. And Steve doesn’t have to worry that Bucky’s trying to make sure he gets his fill and do without these days, either.

Sometimes, Bucky really loves the future.

“So,” Bucky starts. “You clearly have plans for today.”

Steve eyes his plate like he’s considering licking it clean, but just picks up his own coffee and sits back, instead.

“I do,” he agrees.

“Wanna share?”

Steve shrugs and sips his coffee. “Honestly, nothing set in stone. First I was thinking about a nap. I’m stuffed.”

Bucky shrugs. “I can do a nap. I’m assuming you’re planning for both of us today?”

Steve blushes a little. “It’s our anniversary. I wanna spend it together.”

Bucky smiles at him. “I’m good with that.”

Steve grins. “Good. Nap?”

“You gonna wake me up with a blowjob again?”

“I can be convinced, yes.”

“Nap it is.”

It may be one of Bucky’s favorite ways to be woken up, and they may both be aware of that.

Steve obliges him.

This time around, Bucky manages to drag Steve up the bed and return the favor before he can take care of himself.

“Is this what your plans were for today?” he asks after, still panting a little, trying to decide if he wants to nap some more or go again.

Steve chuckles. “Well, I thought we could watch a movie at some point, too.”

Bucky laughs. “Happy anniversary to me.”

They more or less spend the day in bed, lounging together. They watch a couple movies on someone’s laptop (probably Bucky’s, as Steve usually doesn’t know where his is). Bucky reads his book for a while, and Steve sketches. They have more sex, take another shower together this time, eat lunch in bed.

At some point, Steve gets a text and says, “Wait here.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, because where the hell is he going to go? He is slumped comfortably in bed, propped up on pillows, still pleasantly full from lunch and languid with sex. He doesn’t know how Steve has the energy to get up and do anything. It’s pretty much the perfect day.

He listens as Steve goes to the front door and then listens as he carries something to the kitchen. He listens to Steve mutter to himself while he puts stuff in the fridge, and watches him come back carrying that bottle of Asgardian liquor Thor had sent last year for their wedding. 

He’s got a confused look on his face. “I got dinner delivered,” he says, brandishing the bottle.

It’s maybe a different color than it used to be? Bucky doesn't really remember. They don’t drink the stuff often, because it’s potent enough to get them both drunk within three shots and they always end up passing out and sleeping for about fifteen hours after drinking it.

“Are we drinking?” Bucky asks, stretching his arms over his head and groaning a little at it. He’s not sure if he’s groaning at the thought of drinking, or at the stretch of his body, pleasantly a bit sore from being recently railed by his athletic super-soldier husband.

Steve is still looking at the bottle in his hand and doesn’t seem to be paying attention to Bucky. “No, this was in the fridge.”

“It’s always in the fridge?”

“No, it’s new.” Steve shakes his head.

“Oh jesus he sent another one?”

Steve looks at the little card tied around the neck. “It says happy anniversary.”

Bucky smiles, and dreads it a little. But, “That was nice of Thor.”

“It looks different.”

Bucky nods. He stretches some more, and oggles Steve, openly leering at him. He doesn’t really care about the alcohol right now.

“Should we try it?”

“Maybe after dinner?”

Steve nods and wanders off again. He returns just a few minutes later, and crawls back into bed like being up was the most arduous task he’s ever had to complete. He crawls right into Bucky’s arms and snuggles against him.

“Good anniversary?” he asks.

Bucky kisses the top of his head, wraps his arms around Steve’s shoulders, and wonders if Steve will be up for another round before dinner. “Good anniversary,” he agrees.

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently the traditional gift for a first anniversary (in the US) is paper. Thor clearly did not get the memo. He just wants to get his friends drunk so they can have drunk-on-Asgardian-champagne sex.
> 
> Also, I still haven't figured out if I've mentioned Whiskey the cat before in any of the fics in this series, or if i just thought i did.
> 
> [twitter](https://www.twitter.com/BelovedMuerto), or [dreamwidth](https://belovedmuerto.dreamwidth.org), or [tumblr](http://www.belovedmuerto.tumblr.com) i guess.


End file.
